


So Close

by izloveshorses



Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, I guess you could say canon-divergence bc they get to dance in this but whatever!!!, Missing Scene, One Shot, it's about the tenderness.... the hands... the vulnerability..., it's amazing how much flirting can get done after a good amount of sleep, the dimya bff scenes we deserve, they just love each other a lot and there's too much pining to explore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:46:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22681186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izloveshorses/pseuds/izloveshorses
Summary: After arriving in Paris, Anya, Vlad, and Dmitry had some time to spare before meeting the Dowager. Why not celebrate their newfound freedom with a few fun nights out?
Relationships: Dimitri | Dmitry/Anya | Anastasia Romanov (Anastasia 1997 & Broadway)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 62





	So Close

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3 of Dimya Week 2020!! <3 The prompt was "Fairytale Gets a Spin" but I'm a clown and had no ideas so this doesn't really follow it, but it's dimya so. pls accept my humble offering.
> 
> On the canon timeline, this is set during Paris Holds the Key/ right before In a Crowd of Thousands. Enjoy!

Dmitry hadn’t been this at-ease in years.

He, Anya, and Vlad arrived in Paris in tatters. The first thing they did was check into a hotel suite (with an impressive bathroom!), got cleaned up, and collapsed into bed. In order to pass the time before meeting the Dowager Empress at the weekend’s ballet performance, they entertained themselves with an endless cycle of shopping, exploring the various attractions, and spending the evening at swanky clubs. 

But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a full three meals in one day. Or relaxed in public, without the fear of execution and prison breathing down his neck. Or actually enjoyed the people he was spending time with.

Anya was thriving in the city. She smiled and laughed more easily, charmed every stranger, delighted in every discovery. Sometimes he’d catch that fearless smile directed at him and it’d always knock the wind out of his lungs. 

Somewhere along the way the air had shifted between them. They argued less, teased more. She discovered his taste for finer foods, now that those were available to them, and wouldn’t leave him alone after that. He’d retaliate with a jab at her excitement over the most touristy attractions, but he didn’t really mean it, and she knew he didn’t mean it either. He wasn’t quite sure what it was or when it happened but they were definitely friends now. At least. Or something more. What do you call someone you’d spill all of your secrets to? 

_ She’ll break your heart. _ Vlad’s words interrupted his dangerous thoughts on his way back to the hotel room after a fitting for his tuxedo. He chastised himself again for losing sight of the plan. No more thoughts about— 

“Anya?” he asked in the doorway. 

She was sprawled across his bed, book in hand, macaron crumbs scattered everywhere. She must have found his stash of leftover sweets from the day before. “You’re back soon,” she said without looking up, grinning.

“What are you…”

“Sorry,” she sat up and held the (now almost empty) macaron box to him as an offering. He happily took one and sat next to her. “My dress fitting ended early and I…” she pursed her lips. “I don’t like being alone in my room for that long… and we still have a few hours before we go out tonight, and I knew you had snacks in here so I—”

He laughed, “I don’t mind.” When he held her gaze for a little too long he cleared his throat and leaned back on the bed, his hands underneath his head. “But if you’re gonna stay in here to read, you’re gonna have to read out loud. It’s only fair.”

She made a big show of huffing and grumbling, but readjusted herself on the squeaky bed. “Fine.” His heart leapt to his throat when she rested her head on his side, lying perpendicular to him, legs crossed, before she started to read. 

He didn’t understand everything from the story but the few bits of French he’d picked up and Anya’s diction was enough. She paused and raised her voice at all the appropriate moments for a dramatic effect, and even though he couldn’t see her face from this angle, he could hear her smiling, and his laugh would make her head bob up and down. Something about the domesticity of it and the exhaustion from the past few days— or years, really— lulled his eyes closed.

He wasn’t sure when he dozed off but next thing he knew the sun was setting through his window. She’d curled up even closer and onto her side so she was facing him, snoring softly with her head still resting on his stomach, book hanging limply from her hand. Her cheek was pressed into his vest and he wanted to brush away the hair that had fallen onto her face, a golden halo silhouetted around her head. For a second he was too afraid to move or even breathe. Then their suite door slamming shut signaled that Vlad was back and it was time to get ready for dinner. 

He gingerly lifted her head and set it on the bed so he could get changed. He couldn’t decide what to do at first— they had to leave, but… he’d heard her scream through the walls in the middle of the night. She hardly ever slept. Why would he interrupt that now, when she was so still?

He settled for waking her up after he got dressed. But as soon as he grabbed his suit from the closet, Vlad knocked and promptly barged in and that was enough to wake up Anya. 

Dmitry sighed when Vlad shouted, “Paris is not for napping! Up!”

Thanks to Vlad’s herding and constant reminders of all the cultural enrichment they needed to experience while they could, they made it to their dinner reservation on time. Anya teased Dmitry for taking the longest to get ready even after having a head start, but he was too tongue-tied to banter back because her hand was on his arm and she was wearing a pink dress with a different neckline than her white blazer from last night. It was delicate, soft, happy. Like the Anya he’d come to know, now that they weren’t running for their lives. 

The live band kicked up the music to something fresh and loud, and Vlad jumped from his seat, declaring he was going elsewhere to look for Lily. “I’ll start at the Neva Club,” he said, patting them both on their shoulders before skipping away.

Dmitry laughed into his plate. “Where was this energy when we walked through Germany?”

“We’re more exhausting than voluptuous countesses, apparently.” 

He snorted and looked out at Vlad meandering through the crowd towards the exit. “I’m glad he’s happy.” 

“He’s free, now,” Anya said, “he’s not as worried anymore.”

“When did you get so philosophical?”

She rolled her eyes. “When I realized I don’t have to sleep under a bridge again.”

He shrugged. “I suppose it’s nice not being afraid, for once.”

“Have you ever wondered the type of person you’d be if your needs were taken care of?”

He played with the rim of his wine class for a second. “Every single day.”

“I always thought…” she bit her lip. “I thought I’d lose myself if I didn’t have to struggle anymore. But now I’m discovering new things and it’s like… I never knew who I was before.”

Her vulnerability never failed to shock him. “So… who is comfortable Anya, then?”

“She likes… sweets.” She grinned. “And reading books by the water.” He laughed and nodded, as if he hadn’t noticed this discovery. As if he hadn’t noticed everything about her. “What does comfortable Dmitry like?”

He blinked. Wasn’t it obvious? The truth sat on the tip of his tongue as her eyes danced and waited for a response. One little word, and this game would be over. But he decided to go with the safe route and leaned back, pretending to ponder, “He’s a fan of baths and lavender soaps.”

She rewarded him with a giggle, “A man of many surprises.” She picked at a spot on the table before adding, “I think I like learning more about myself. Who I am, what I like to do or spend my money on.” She leaned forward. “I like learning that about you, too.”

He swallowed, his chest tightening. Then to hide how much the compliment touched him, he said, “I can’t believe it only took a few nights of good sleep to make you not hate me.”

She shook her head, eyes smiling. “I never hated you.”

He ducked his head and saw his fingers had mindlessly started to dance across hers, light and gentle. She didn’t pull away. Her knee bounced against his to the beat of the music and he tried not to think about how much skin her dress revealed. 

She stood up suddenly and pushed in her chair. “I’m going to dance.”

“You didn’t even finish your plate!” 

She shrugged. “I’m full.” A luxury neither of them would take for granted, so he let it slide. “Are you coming?”

Every night so far she’d asked him to join her. And every night he said, “Maybe after I finish my wine.”

“Hmm.” She seemed unsatisfied with his answer. Instead of finding someone else to dance with like she usually did, she took the drink out of his hand and finished it in one gulp.

“Hey!”

“There.” She slammed the glass down onto the table and yanked him by the arm out of his seat. “Look, you don’t even have to dance with me—”

“That’s not—” 

“But Paris isn’t for sulking.” 

Her withering glare was enough to get him to cave, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of winning him over. He huffed exaggeratedly and sighed, “Since it  _ is _ our last night before—” He didn’t finish because she grabbed his wrist and almost ran through the tangle of dancers. 

The music was loud and swollen with life that pulsed through his limbs. He and Anya had learned more traditional ballroom dances, but these people were swinging each other around recklessly, kicking their legs side-by-side, and he almost felt too uncomfortable and awkward to participate. But he found his rhythm and tried to imitate the movements of everyone around him. People stumbled into him but he only laughed at the silliness of it. He kept bumping into Anya on the too crowded dance floor, but it didn’t matter, because she only smiled and looked up at him through her giggles, tongue between her teeth, delighted at every misstep. This type of dancing was wild and untamed, intimate and vulnerable, all at once. Like her. 

Dmitry realized he’d do this every night if it meant seeing her shine. 

Vlad’s words echoed through his thoughts again—  _ She’ll break your heart—  _ but he ignored them. For the first time, probably ever, he was fine if a con didn’t work out. Because if the Dowager didn’t accept her… would a life like this be so bad? 

The music finally slowed and he started to head back to their table to catch his breath, but stopped when he felt a hand snag his. 

His stomach twisted when she tugged him back, an unspoken question hanging on her lips. He answered with a smile and stepped closer. Deep down he knew there were so many more eligible men for her to dance with, but if she was willing to give him this night, he should at least make it worth her time.

He felt that strange, unidentifiable, magnetic pull again, anchored somewhere deep in his chest and drawing him to her. To her hands, her breathtaking eyes, her smile. She usually beamed with her whole face— nose crinkling and eyes lifting— but this was softer, just between them. Like an inside-joke or a secret. Like she knew something no one else did— not even him. 

Time seemed to slow as they glided across the dancefloor and he forgot where they were. For a minute there was no one else in the room, no Dowager to meet, no plans of money or parting ways. Just the girl in his arms and the hum of the music. 

Too soon, the band announced the club was closing, and Dmitry’s hand lingered a little too long on Anya’s back before he stepped away. She kept her hand in his until they were the only two left on the dance floor. 

His head was still lost in a dreamy daze when they stepped outside. To diffuse whatever tension that still remained, he said, “I didn’t step on your feet this time!” He laughed as they strolled down the sidewalk, the cool breeze smelling sweet and fresh. “Are you impressed yet?”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “I suppose you were a suitable dance partner.” Their hands and shoulders brushed at their sides, not committing to clinging onto the other, but not committing to stepping further apart, either. She paused before continuing, “Thank you. For tonight. That was fun.”

He never knew how to respond when she thanked him. Back when they first entered the city, he’d stupidly mumbled a  _ Thank Vlad,  _ but that wouldn’t work here. So he just rubbed his neck and changed the subject. “How much are you willing to bet Vlad is spending the night at Lily’s?”

She raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t know you gambled.”

He laughed. “I never had anything worth risking.”

“One crime to another, then.” She tsked in disapproval. “Such a shame.”

“Gotta make a living somehow.”

“I don’t know how I feel about being friends with a criminal.”

“Well this criminal—” he pointed at himself with both thumbs and walked backwards so he could look at her, “got you out of Russia.”

He tripped stupidly and she giggled. Good to know she thought him almost face-planting was hilarious.

Outside of their hotel, a little flower vendor was still set up, despite the hour, and he called out to them, “Beautiful rose for the beautiful couple?”

“Oh, we’re not—” Dmitry started.

But Anya linked her arm through his elbow and said graciously,  _ “Merci beaucoup, monsieur!” _ His breath hitched when she pulled him even closer while she browsed. She and the vendor had an exchange where she tried to give him money but he insisted it was a gift. Dmitry was almost in awe again, she could charm anyone without even realizing how much she was adored.

“What were you saying about breaking the law?” Dmitry teased when they were out of earshot. She was still holding his arm and it didn’t seem like she planned on letting go anytime soon.

“You’re a bad influence.” They walked through the lobby doors and through the hallway towards their suite. “Besides, you played that scheme a lot on our way here.”

It was true. People tended to be more sympathetic towards young newlyweds, which meant they were able to get much-needed discounts on their journey. One inn in Germany even gave them a free room for the night. “It was so you could get an actual bed to sleep in.”

“And I appreciate that.” After he unlocked the door and they stepped into the common area of their suite (empty and quiet. No sign of Vlad), she continued, “But this—” she broke the thorny stem to a shorter length and tucked the flower into the breast pocket of his jacket, “is so you can look pretty.”

He laughed. “Don’t kid yourself. I always look pretty.”

“Not without accessories!” She rolled her eyes.

“I see.” He grinned. “I suppose these schemes are necessary, then.”

She laughed. “Maybe I should say we’re married more often.”

“Maybe so.” 

A beat passed before he realized what was just said and how close they were standing. Her smile faltered and she dropped her hands that had been resting on his chest. He swallowed, unable to break the silence or her gaze. Her chignon had loosened a bit and he found his fingers tucking a strand of hair behind her ear without his permission, then gliding down the contour of her cheek, her arm, all the way to intertwine with her fingers. Her eyes followed his hand the whole time, down to where their hands awkwardly clung together, a little sad. His gaze dropped to her lips and he looked down, jaw clenched. 

Eventually he remembered how to breathe again. One by one, their fingers unlinked, until only his index finger was touching her hand, grazing up and down, beyond his control. 

_ If they accept her as Anastasia, you’ll never see her again. _

He froze and stuffed his fists in his pockets because otherwise he’d be there all night. They both shuffled backwards towards their bedrooms, slowly, not quite wanting the night to end, because saying goodnight was one step away from saying goodbye. But it was late. They had too much riding on tomorrow, so they needed to be as well-rested as possible, he reminded himself. Better keep his distance until they knew if all these months of preparation were worth it. “See you in the morning,” he whispered, because he didn’t know what else to do.

She gave him her soft smile again. The secret one. “Sleep well, Dmitry.”

Before he shut his bedroom door across from hers, he said, “Sweet dreams.”

Her smile widened in the dark, telling him she knew he meant it. He slowly closed his door, not wanting to look away from her yet, and it softly clicked shut, feeling like a cage. He sighed and leaned his forehead against it for a minute. The scent of the rose resting on his heart tickled his nose. She’d burned into every part of his soul.

When had he fallen so deep?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Comments, kudos, or any validation of the sort are much appreciated <3 Come chat with me on Tumblr @izloveshorses <3


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